


He's Family

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ian's in Denial, Interlude fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Mickey Is Not Great At Parenting, Set Between S4-5, Svetlana Is a Boss, cute baby, undiagnosed bipolar disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set two weeks after 4x12. Mickey is struggling to be a dad until Ian is finally able to help him out.





	He's Family

Babies are the fucking worst.

That’s the conclusion Mickey’s come to in the past weeks. Yevgeny--Christ, what a terrible name--cries constantly at everything, sleeps so lightly that the creak of a floorboard is enough to wake him up, and only seems to like Svetlana. Mickey mimics everything he sees her do, but the little shit can obviously tell the difference and screams until Mickey passes him off to her again. 

One day, Mickey’s trying to get Yevgeny to go to sleep after missing his afternoon nap, and he wanders into his bedroom to see that for the first time in almost two weeks, Ian’s not in bed. 

“Ian?” His heart skips, because the door to the bathroom is slightly ajar and for a split second, he’s afraid Ian’s in there trying to hurt himself like Fiona and Lip have been warning him about. He hid all the razors and anything sharp, but what if--

“Yeah?”

Mickey almost falls back onto the bed in surprise. He spoke. And he sounds normal, like before. 

“The fuck are you doing up?” Mickey says, stupidly. “I mean--you’re up, right?”

“I’m up,” Ian replies, like it’s any other day and he hasn’t been out of bed for two weeks. “About to take a shower. Want to join me?”

And now he’s going to shower. Mickey’s relieved to hear it, because Ian’s been getting pretty ripe lately. He was afraid he was going to have to start sponge-bathing him or something.

“Uh, that’s great, but I can’t,” Mickey says, as Yevgeny starts whining again. “Little shit won’t go to sleep. You go ahead, wash the stink off you.”

The water starts running, and Mickey is torn between feeling relieved that Ian’s finally better and actually cleaning himself, and annoyed because Yevgeny is still not asleep. 

“Come on,” he grunts, jiggling him in his arms. “I gotta make sure Ian’s okay.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Ian’s in the kitchen dressed in sweats and wolfing down toast and eggs. 

“God, I’m starving,” he says around a mouthful. “Wasn’t really hungry until this morning.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Mickey says, trying to ignore Yevgeny’s unhappy wails from the crib in the corner. Svetlana believes in letting him cry it out sometimes, so hopefully she’ll understand what Mickey’s doing when she comes home to this. At least she fucking better, because Mickey has no idea what else to do at this point.

“Uh, look,” Mickey says, not sure where to begin. “Are you sure you’re okay? Cause you were seriously down for a while, man. I couldn’t get you out of bed for anything. Fiona and Debbie came by and told me you might have bipolar disease.”

Ian snorts into his coffee. “I’m not bipolar, I was just…” He trails off, shrugging. “I dunno, I crashed. I was tired.”

Mickey’s eyebrows lift. He knows tired--hell, with a baby in the house, he’s always tired--but this was different. Ian had slept a lot, but he never seemed rested. 

“Uh, yeah, anyway,” Mickey continues, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Maybe we should see that doctor Fiona recommended, just to get you checked out. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Ian shakes his head. “I’m fine, really. I feel a lot better. I don’t need a doctor.”

Mickey wants to believe that, but after the past two weeks, he’s not so sure. 

“Ian,” he says softly. “I was worried about you. You barely ate anything. You wouldn’t even let me touch you.”

Ian smirks. “Feeling deprived? We can fix that.”

“Seriously,” Mickey says with a sharp edge to his voice, because this isn’t fucking funny. “You were gone. Like, completely checked out, not talking to anyone, total zombie. Fiona wanted to send you to some fucking psych ward but I told her no, I’d take care of you. And I did, but I was getting really worried. Now you’re up and you say you’re better, but--”

“I am,” Ian insists. “Really, Mick, the whole time I knew you were there. I just….” He trails off, fidgeting with his fork. “It was like I was in a hole, okay? I couldn’t pull myself out of it. And I don’t think anybody could have made me. But I’m not there anymore, I promise.”

“I just want to know why you crashed like that,” Mickey persists. “It wasn’t like you, especially with how you were before.” 

Ian nods, taking a deep breath. 

“You know what I think it was? The drugs. I took a lot of them, almost every night at work. Everyone at the club was doing them, and I just...gave into peer pressure or whatever. They made everything easier. My guess is they finally wore off and I crashed. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”

Mickey thinks about it, and it makes sense. Hell, he saw one of those fuckers slip Ian a pill, so it’s not a stretch to think drug use was the root cause of all of this. 

“So...no doctor?” he says, just to be clear. “You sure? You’re clean now?”

“I’m clean,” Ian says with a smile, and it’s been so long since Mickey’s seen him smile that he decides fuck it, Ian’s fine if he says he is. He’s talking, eating, showering, and off the drugs. Nothing but good news here, seems like. 

“But, uh, your kid’s been crying for like ten minutes,” Ian goes on, glancing over at Yevgeny’s crib. “Is he okay?”

“Fine,” Mickey scoffs. “Little shit just won’t go to sleep. He missed his nap.”

“Aw,” Ian says, getting up from the table. “He’s probably overtired.”

“Ian, leave him alone, he’s--” Mickey follows him, for some reason not wanting Ian to see the baby. It just reminds Mickey of why Ian left in the first place. What if he sees Yevgeny and it all comes back?

Ian stands over the crib and for the first time, gets a good look at the kid. 

“Wow,” he says quietly. “He looks like you.”

Mickey’s stomach drops. He’s had that same thought himself, but he was kind of hoping nobody would say it out loud. 

“Can I pick him up?” Ian asks. “I just wanna try something. It used to help Liam fall asleep when he was this little.”

Mickey lifts an arm and drops it. “Be my guest.” What the hell, Ian knows more about kids than Mickey does. 

“Hey,” Ian coos to the baby, picking him up like a seasoned pro and rocking him slightly. “Hey, Yevgeny, I’m Ian. You missed your nap, huh? Bet you’re tired.”

He starts walking around the room, kind of swaying, and humming to the baby. Mickey’s never seen him like this, and in spite of everything--wanting to keep the fuckery of his sham marriage and unwanted kid away from what he has with Ian--he’s impressed. Ian’s treating the kid like he’s just another baby, and he’s doing good. Yevgeny calms down, and within a few minutes, he’s asleep. 

“Look at you, the baby whisperer,” Mickey comments, and Ian smiles at him. 

“He’s cute,” he says, still holding Yevgeny. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about him.”

“What, you mean at the christening? No big deal, man. It’s over.”

“No, not just that,” Ian says, putting Yevgeny back down in his crib. “For leaving you alone with your dad and Svetlana. I was pissed at you for going through with the wedding, and I still wish you could have backed out--”

“Ian,” Mickey holds up a hand. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Ian shrugs. “Fine. But...I’m here now, and if you want me to stay, I will. If that’s okay with Svetlana.”

Mickey’s happy to hear it. “Fine with me. I’ll tell Svetlana when she gets back.”

Ian grins. “And when will that be?”

Mickey knows that look, and God has he missed it. “Couple hours. But we can’t wake the baby.”

Ian moves closer. “Then let’s try not to.”

***

“So Redhead is here to stay now?”

Mickey shrugs. “Pretty much. That sound good to you?”

“If he helps with baby,” Svetlana says, giving Ian her most cutting look. “You can do that?”

“I have three younger siblings,” Ian says as calmly as if he’s at a job interview. “I can teach Mick everything he needs to know, and I’ll babysit between shifts if you need someone.”

She shrugs. “It would be nice to have someone to help who likes babies.”

“I…” Mickey protests, but doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. “Yevgeny’s not that bad.”

Ian muffles a laugh, and Svetlana stands up straight, arms folded across her chest. 

“You help, you can stay,” she says. “But no more spending all day in bed. We are not running hotel. Understood?”

Ian gives her a careful smile--Mickey thinks he’s still a little intimidated by her. 

“Yeah,” Ian says solemnly. “I promise, I’m over that. I’ll help out.”

She leaves the room, and Ian breathes a sigh of relief when the door closes. 

“She’s intense,” he comments. “Got you by the short hairs, huh?”

Mickey shakes his head. “She doesn’t have a leg to stand on now that my dad’s back in jail. I could kick her out tomorrow, but with the baby and the business…” 

“I get it,” Ian says. “And I don’t mind, as long as she doesn’t come after me with a hammer again.” He glances at the clock. “I gotta get to work, make sure I still have a job to go back to. Thanks for covering for me, by the way.”

Mickey had told the club Ian was out with a broken ankle. “No problem. Just remember to limp a little if they don’t believe you.”

Ian smiles and gets up from the bed.

“Spend some time with your kid,” he says, grabbing his coat. “I’ll swing by my place later and get my stuff, let everybody know I’m okay.” He drops a kiss on Mickey’s cheek before he leaves.

Mickey runs a hand through his hair. He knows how he looks to others--like a deadbeat, a moron who doesn’t know how to take care of a baby--but it’s not just that. 

He goes back into the living room and checks on the baby. Yevygeny’s awake, but not crying yet. He blinks up at Mickey, and Mickey tries to smile at him the way Ian did.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Sorry I’m not the one you like, but we gotta learn to get along with each other. We’re family.”

Family. The word sounds perfectly natural when he talks about Ian or Mandy, but it doesn’t seem to fit his own son just yet. He sighs, figuring that if anyone’s not going to call him a pussy for what he’s about to say, it’s the three-month-old in front of him. 

“Look, it’s not your fault,” he says, leaning against the edge of the crib. “I didn’t want kids. I thought I’d never have them because my dad was such a fucking bastard. And your mom and me...we’re not exactly in love. Hell, sometimes we hate each other. But I don’t want you to think that’s because of you.”

Yevgeny doesn’t seem concerned, but it feels good to say all this out loud, so Mickey keeps talking.

“Sometimes I wish everything had just stayed the same, that Ian and I could’ve just...done our thing without anyone finding out. But maybe it’s better this way. I don’t have to worry what anyone knows about me anymore. Nobody even cares. I thought I’d be dead if I ever came out to my dad, but I’m still here, and he’s locked up again.” He smiles. “Good news for you, too. Cause trust me, he’d start trying to beat the shit out of you once you were big enough.”

The thought of Terry laying a hand on his son actually makes his fists clench, which surprises him. Yevgeny gurgles, and Mickey takes a deep breath, reminding himself that his dad isn’t here and won’t be again for a long time. He’s safe, and so is the baby. 

He reaches out a hand, not really knowing why, and Yevgeny’s tiny fingers brush his before holding on tight to his index finger.

“I wouldn’t let him hurt you," Mickey says quietly. “You’re family. Family protects each other. Okay?”

Yevgeny keeps gripping Mickey's finger, and for the first time, Mickey feels like maybe he understands. Maybe everything’s going to get better from now on, now that Ian’s not sick anymore and Terry’s locked up. 

Maybe things can finally be the way he wants them to be.


End file.
